


Consequences

by BelovedCreation



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Emma Swan, Dark One Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dark hook is in need of control - the kind he can only get from emma</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His footfall was always quiet - the light tread of a pirate well-practiced in the art of sneak attacks - but she will have to grow used to the way his magic allows him to appear suddenly and silently. Especially as she wants desperately to be alone with her thoughts. But his voice, low and deceptively calm, startles her from her recollections and Emma turns, hand rising to her chest, as she surveys him in the moonlight.

“We always did find ourselves in some manner of forest, did we not?” The smirk he gives her holds none of its usual warmth. “They all looked the same. And this clearing,” he steps toward a tree and reaches out to run his palm down the rough bark, “reminds me of another one. Do you know which one I am thinking of?”

Emma nods. She is filled with equal parts dread and desire - fear and faith. Unsure of whether she should let him continue or cut him off from what is bound to be an emotional tirade, Emma plants her feet and watches him with the expressionless face of a fellow Dark One.

Killian’s jaw twitches, obviously wishing for her answer to be wordier, and he finally steps into her personal space, hand and hook on her hips, and he keeps moving until her back is pressed against one of the trees.

“We were all here, tied up.” Through the fabric of her jacket sleeves, she can still feel the warmth of his hand and the cool of his hook as he slides them along her arms so her fingers nearly meet around the tree trunk. A glimmer of magic and ties wrap around her wrists, binding her to this place, to this moment, to this man and his wrath.

And even though the same darkness flows through each of their veins, his brand is deeper, harsher, and no amount of her own magic will break these ties if he does not wish it. For the first time since the damn dagger was last held up to control her, Emma has no power.

“Do you know how it feels to be helpless, love?” On the smooth tongue of a Dark One, the endearment loses all of its softness. It bites at her heart. “At the mercy of another’s whims?”

Emma’s throat is too thick with feeling to speak. She only nods again.

“Ah.” His eyes light up and he runs his hand back around her body, settling at her waist. “Now that is where you are wrong. I have been tied up more than I bloody well should have been. More than any man deserves, even a villain such as I. And I seem to recall a series of events in Camelot when you were threatened with outside control, but over and over again I begged that you make your own choices.” The hand moves, pressing against her stomach, and his palm makes a slow journey up her torso, following the line of her zipper. “Do I remember correctly?”

Emma nods.

“Then why, Swan,” thumb and forefinger lift the zipper, “was my own decision to die rather than become the very thing that I hate ignored?”

She can’t hold onto her tears any longer, no matter how hard she tries, and they splash down her cheeks, filling her mouth with the taste of salt when she finally parts her lips to speak to this man, the one she loves, a shadow of who she had proudly watched him become. “Killian. I couldn’t live without-”

He pulls on the zipper - hard - and her chest follows the movement, her arms crying out in protest. But it is only a tug of the wrist, and she is released once more. His fingers remain on the zipper pull and slowly, with extreme focus as though he did not hear her response, Killian pulls the zipper down and opens her jacket. The night wind is no longer blocked and she shivers in her tank top.

“Much better,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I must admit disappointment that your outfit of choice did not expose these perfect breasts to their fullest advantage.” Killian’s hand returns to her chest and he palms one of her breasts roughly. Emma feels a flash of warmth between her thighs and bites her lip against the moan that threatens to give her away.

She struggles to keep her emotions in check, but as usual, her short temper gets the best of her. “I didn’t know you were partial to them.”

“Ah yes.” His hand moves to her other breast and his gaze returns to her face. She really cannot hide the blush of pleasure spreading across her cheeks and his own expression is greedy and excited. “Especially now that they have been concealed from my gaze.”

“So what do you want?” It comes out sharper than she intended, more focused on his appearing to her in the forest than on the ways her thighs are clenching in anticipation, but his smirk deepens and his hand makes its way back to her waist.

“I want what I have always wanted, darling. You.” He flicks open her pants so his fingers can continue their pathway down down down, fingertips sliding along her damp folds. “And this time I decide the terms.”

“Oh.”

Her breathing hitches when he finds her clit - so easily she would think he’s done this a million times, memorized her anatomy instead of her heart. Killian flicks it rapidly, then his fingers dip lower, gathering moisture, and he runs lazy circles across the sensitive bud. Her knees are going weak and it is hell on her arms, but Emma doesn’t give a shit when her hips are pressing forward and she is desperately wishing for him to fill her - with his fingers, with his cock - just to fill her and cover the gaping holes in her soul since she gave into the Darkness to save his life.

“Killian.”

“No.”

His hand withdraws and she actually whimpers in despair. Emma opens her eyes and he is glaring at her - more angry than she has seen him since he found out what had happened. She swallows.

“I am not Killian anymore. I am the Dark One. I am Hook again. You made me like this.” The curve of his moniker presses against her throat. “So if you are going to come around my fingers darling - and, trust me, you shall - then you will bloody well know who is making you come.”

Emma licks her lips and presses her head back against the rough tree bark, glaring, furious at him for his teasing and his words, and furious at herself for knowing that all the things he is accusing her of are true. They stare at each other for a very, very long time before her core clenches, desperate for him, for release, and her shoulders sag in defeat.

“Please, Hook,” she whispers. “Please. I need you.”

Immediately his hand is between her legs and he only spares a moment before two fingers circle her entrance and he slides in, letting out a soft sigh at how she clenches around the digits.

“Say it, love.”

“Hook.” She won’t take the chance and close her eyes again. He wants her to look at him, at the anger and the passion on his face. And if he needs this to be in control again, she’ll give it to him. She’d do whatever it takes to keep him in her life. “Hook.” Emma is having a hard time breathing as he strokes that place inside of her that makes her see stars. “Hook, I need you so much.”

“You wanted me, Swan,” his thumb runs a rough circle around her clit and she finally falls over the edge, gasping, fighting against instinct to keep her eyes open, “and you have me. You have the me you have created.” His pace is relentless as she rides out her orgasm and she almost thinks he is working her up so she can fall again, but his hand withdraws and his mouth ghosts along her neck.

“We are not done, Swan. But that is enough for tonight.” The magic at her wrists dissolves and she nearly collapses on the damp forest floor. “I shall see you again. Soon.”

And with a flick of his hook, he disappears into the moonlight.


	2. Chapter 2

Their magical connection in Storybrooke is entirely untested. Their names are both engraved upon the most famous sword of all time - and though the weapon no longer can control either of them, it glints maniacally when Emma picks it up to examine it, wondering what she will do next and how she can find her way without Killian by her side. Their names are together on the sword, but Killian has stayed as far from her as possible.

She gets a feeling, every once in a while, a tingle down her spine, something to indicate he’s thinking about her or talking about her or planning to do something about her - though she can’t pinpoint what his plan may be. Mostly, he ignores her.

There was a day when, after bringing her to orgasm, Emma Swan felt lucky if the guy ignored her.

She doesn’t feel that way any longer.

The events from two nights ago were.. unusual, to say the least. Some light bondage and teasing were never anything that she shied away from, but the fury in his eyes and the dark way he had chuckled as she fell over the edge - it was more about vengeance for him than than her own pleasure. But she had gotten her pleasure anyway. Holy fuck, had she ever. 

The images are seared in her mind even now, and when she reclines on her bed for the sleep she knows will never come, her fingers drift toward her warm center, running lazy fingertips across the fabric of her underwear. A few minutes of gentle touches and remembrances of Killian’s desperate strokes and her panties are drenched, wishing for something more than her own hand. But that’s all she has at her disposal: her touch and her memories.

Emma is just nearing her climax, two fingers on her clit and another two fingers plunging inside of her, when her wordless groans finally round into a single word.

“Killian.”

“I told you to call me Hook, love.”

He appears too quickly for her to disguise what she is doing, what with the bedsheets flung to the side and her legs splayed open and folds spread for him to see in the moonlight. Killian blinks, thrown off for the first time since finding out about what she had done in Camelot, but recovers quickly.

“Need a hand, love?”

Emma grits her teeth and resumes her exploration and the steady journey towards completion. “I’ve got it,” she grunts.

“Oh no.” Killian tilts his head. The angle shows his clear amusement at the situation. “If you  _got it_  then there would be no need to moan my name while you are stroking yourself.” With a flick of his hook, the same magical ties from last time circle her ankles, spreading her further and anchoring her to the foot of the bed. Emma gasps and jerks and then the ties spring up around her wrists, binding them to one another and above her head.

“That’s better.” He grins, something feral and incredibly arousing. “I told you we were not done.” Killian slips his jacket off of his shoulders are carefully places it on the chair beside the vanity. “And it is obvious you feel the same.”

The rest of his clothes remain on as Killian crosses back to her and braces hand and hook down on the bed between her spread legs. As if he were examining something new and strange, Killian squints and leans forward so she can feel his warm breath across her still-damp folds. Deliberately, he blows a jet of cold air and she squirms in delight and surprise.

“Perhaps I should just leave you here,” he murmurs, lifting his hand off the mattress and pressing two fingers against her so he can open her up more fully. His gentle touch isn’t enough - not by half - and she bites her lips against the demand that he provide the friction she needs so badly. “Unable to do anything but think about what we could have been.” The two fingers move in firm circles and she almost cries out. “Would you be able to stand that, love?”

She doesn’t answer and his hand draws back.

“No!” she whimpers.

“No  _what_?”

“No, don’t stop.” Killian glares and starts to pull away from her completely, leave the bed and maybe even her room. “No, Hook!” Her mouth fumbles over the old nickname. “Killian, I wouldn’t be able to stand it if I were left with only memories of us.”

His eyes are focused on the patch of mattress in front of him. For a moment, Emma expects him to really leave. Instead, he lays his chest down on the bed, circles her thighs with his arms, and licks a long strip of her, from bottom to top. Emma lets out a shout and her hips jerk in his grasp, lazy smile breaking out on her face.

“Swan.” Gone is the harsh tone of his voice, replaced with a sort of desperation. He laps at her like a man about to drown and she revels in it, in the warm wet feel of his tongue. “I don’t want this, love,” His words are muffled and she is having a hard time not shouting above his whispers. “But I am so bloody  _angry_.” His fingers trail around her thigh until he can dip two fingers inside of her, the tip of his tongue harsh against her clit. “Angry all of the time about what you did and how you did it.” The fingers curl expertly and his tongue slows to a gentle circle for a minute before redoubling his efforts.

Killian says more things as she comes, angry, violent, sad things, but she won’t be able to remember them until the morning. All she remembers when she comes back to herself is how amazing his touch was and that she wants him to touch her all over, to lay down on top of her and cover her with his warm solidness.

“Emma.”

She sighs and squirms and wishes he would release her ties.

“Killian.” Her eyes open and she strains to sit up enough to look down at him, still laying between her legs.

“No.” He shakes his head and withdraws, the loss of his touch making the room feel suddenly chilly. “I told you, Swan. That is not me anymore.”

“But Killian-”

His eyes flash and the ties tighten for only a moment before disappearing altogether. Emma cries out in pain and then relief.

“Swan.” His voice is low and full of warning. “If you call my name again, know that this is the only thing I am capable of.” He runs a single finger across the bright red mark on her ankle. “Hurting you.”

He leaves again before she can tell him how wrong he is.


	3. Chapter 3

Her red jacket still fits, still a comfortable armor against the outside world, still a way for her to ward off unwanted attacks. But the bright red lipstick is new, as is the way her tightly-coiled hair is now leaving the back of her neck exposed to the wind near the docks and the shivers of anticipation and fear that run down her spine.

One step on his most beloved ship and Emma expects that he will appear immediately. The damn thing must be alarmed or something, now that he has magic. But the only result of her trespassing is the creak of the wood beneath her brown boots. If she didn’t know better, she would say the Jolly Roger is happy to have her onboard, especially since this time her motives are decidedly more kind to it’s master. Emma walks quickly across the deck and down the familiar hatch into the captain’s quarters.

It looks just like it always did. No new dark magic has distorted it and Emma shakes her head slightly that she had thought it would be different. Of course he would want his home to be the same. This ship has probably seen him at both his best and his worst.

With a resigned sigh, Emma plops down on the small bed and leans back, making herself comfortable. Killian will return here - eventually - even if he doesn’t need to sleep. The instinct to rest at night has been too strong for her to resist and she expect that it is the same for him.

Her mind has completely wandered and the sun has bent to kiss the horizon by the time he appears, a flash of dark grey smoke so much like hers it makes her bite her lip against the gasp of longing that escapes.

“Swan.”

His lovely lips have curled into a sneer that Emma wants to wipe away. She debates on the response and settles for, “Captain.”

“Ah.” His sneer deepens and he takes a step forward, staring down at her. “Cannot tell you how many times I imagined you calling me that from that position, Swan, all enticingly splayed across my bed. Although,” he waves his hook above her, “you are wearing far less clothes in my imagination.”

“You first.”

Killian shakes his head and lets his jacket slide off of his shoulders and carefully hangs it on the back of the chair behind his desk. “That is not how this game goes. Do you not remember our last two encounters?” He turns back to her and his eyes flash with a dark anger that makes her stomach churn. “Forgive me, but you seem to be the one who remembers everything and I am the one left without memories.”

“Killian.” Emma sits up. She wants to hold him. Just reach out and take his hand or cup his cheek. “I’m sorry but after what happened in Camelot-”

“I do not want to talk!” His shout makes her jump. “If you want me to hurt you and ravish you I will do so, but I will not bloody talk!” Killian has returned to her side and his fingers are turning white from the fist that he is making.

“Fine.” Emma toes off her shoes and takes off her own jacket to toss on the desk near his. “If that’s all I get from you, then let’s fuck.”

His hook slips under her bra strap and the strap of her tank, pulling her and her chest forward until she is standing beside him, eye-to-eye. “Swan.” He grunts her name and his gaze flicks to her lips, her chest, to the bed behind her. “I will not be gentle.”

“I know.” Emma cups him through his jeans, her first taste of what he’s packing, and the way he fills her hand and the sharp intake of his breath make warmth spread across the tops of her thighs. “Why do you think I came here?”

In a second, Killian has spun her around so she is leaning over his desk, ass toward him and palms pressed against the worn wood. He unsnaps her favorite blue jeans with expert precision and slides them down her legs where they pool by her knees. His hook in the center of her back holds her still while his questing fingers flick roughly at her clit and circle her entrance expertly.

“Oh.”

She moans when he slides a single finger in and then chuckles darkly.

“Bloody tight, Swan. I’ve felt you squeeze my fingers twice now.” He removes the digit and then two fingers stretch her in a way that makes her gasp. “Dreamed of your cunt around me, love. Of how it would feel if my cock were the thing making you come.” His fingers curve and Emma starts to see sparks, her hips automatically moving so she can writhe against his touch.

“Fuck me,” she hisses, turning desperate. Emma is afraid that she will come too quickly if his hands and his voice keep pushing her steadily over the edge. “Please,” she adds. “Please.”

Killian laughs and removes his fingers, the hook still firmly pushing her down. And then she feels his length nudging against her entrance, hot and thick and hard. Emma moans and presses herself flat against the surface of the desk and spreads her legs invitingly.

“That’s a love,” he coos. He slides the tip inside, thrusting shallowly, teasing mercilessly. “If not for your pale skin and this damned hair,” his hand curls around her updo, pulling hard until the pins fly out, “I would think you are just another woman and not the bloody Dark One.” He thrusts forward before she can respond, her cry of pleasure keeping her from protesting or questioning further.

He fills her completely, the heat and the solidness of him more satisfying than her fantasies could have imagined. Emma has to bite her lip to keep from screaming his name in wonder. He just feels so fucking good.

“Perfect, love. Damn near perfect.” He retreats slowly, torturously, and then his hips snap against hers, shoving her into the desk and filling her again. His pace is relentless. Just before she falls over the edge, his hand in her hair and his tip hitting that perfect spot within her, she wonders if this is Killian Jones fucking her or the Dark One.

Does the Darkness make you better at sex?

It doesn’t matter, because she’s coming either way, shouting his name - his real name - and tensing every muscle before collapsing in a heap of exhaustion and pleasure.

“That’s what I thought, Swan.” His voice has grown hard again as he pulls his still-stiff cock out and steps away. “You wanted another taste of Darkness.”

“No.”

Emma finds her feet, shaky as they might be, and stands up to face him, flicking her wrist so magic ties of her own making wrap around his wrists and ankles, plucking him up and securing him to the bed. His dick stands up almost comically, bobbing as he tries in vain to pull free.

“That wasn’t what I wanted.” Another flick of the wrist and they are both naked. Magic has its perk and she’s been studying for longer than he has. This is her first time seeing him, naked and hard and staring at her with both hate and lust across his face. She gets wet again just looking at him. Emma climbs onto the bed and rests her body across his, her chest against his and her hips across his. “I never wanted that.” She brushes a kiss to the column of his neck. “I just wanted you, Killian.”

“Hook,” he growls.

“Killian,” she insists.

She watches him carefully as she rubs her core across the length of him, examines how his eyelashes flutter and his face relaxes. It is the first sign of peace she has seen for days and her heartbeat slows a bit to see it. Emma runs her palms up his sides and settles them, one on each of his cheeks, so he has to look forward at her.

“This was all supposed to be about you getting control back,” she whispers, waiting for his eyes to open before she can continue. The blue has turned a shade lighter. “I am going to release the bonds now. You will be free to go. But I-” her breath catches and Emma has to swallow before she can continue, “I want you to stay. I want you to let me make love to you.”

“Swan…” His voice is low, a warning.

“Killian. I love you. Just as you are.” She raises one of her wrists up to you lips and he kisses the tender skin almost by instinct. “The marks from last time are gone. I’m not hurt.” Her hands are shaking as she cups his face more firmly. “Its only my heart that hurts, being away from you. Please believe me. Please let me love you.”

Emma closes her eyes and drops her head and lets the ties vanish, releasing him from her magic and letting him decide what happens next.

“Emma.”

A hand and a hook grasp her hips and his warm length presses at her entrance.

“Emma please.” She looks up and there are a few tears filling his eyes, pain across his face. “I don’t know if I can-”

“Shhh,” she soothes. Her thumb catches a tear before it drops onto the pillow and then she slides him inside of herself slowly, smoothly, twin gasps filling the cabin. “I’ve got you, Killian.”

Emma rises and falls, her eyes focused on his and her heart pounding in her chest, only breaking eye contact when his thumb finds her clit and she smiles lazily in pleasure.

“Right there,” she grins. “Perfect.”

“Yes you are,” he moans in response, feeling her tighten, but she leans forward and kisses him and whispers back to him how perfect and wonderful he is and how much she loves him.

They fall over the edge at the same time, his hook firm in her grasp and words of love raining down between them.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few minutes, stretched out across him and breathing in time. “I am so sorry.”

“I am too, love,” he murmurs back. His hook is cool against her back, but gentle. “I should never have doubted you.”

“The worst was when you doubted yourself.”

He grunts in begrudging agreement and the blankets magically spread themselves across their naked bodies. Emma grins into his chest.

“So what happens next, darling? What is this master plan of yours?”

“After something like that?” Emma props her chin on his chest and raises one of her eyebrows. “Usually sleep. But since Dark Ones don’t sleep…” She waits for his eyes to widen in surprise and then narrow in understanding. “I think we have all night to come up with whatever kinds of plans you want.”

He pins her beneath him with a grunt and nuzzles her breasts. “As the Dark One bids.”


End file.
